This fall, I moved for the first time in almost 10 years. Packing got the best of me. For months, it was the elephant in the room that I tried to ignore until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I procrastinated packing because it seemed like a task bigger than myself. Even though I Konmari-ed all the things, the amount of stuff that I accumulated over nearly 10 years was vast. Moving, in general, is stressful. Add kids to the mix and it’s just downright overwhelming.
We closed and moved in on a weekday. Most people were at work. My stay-at-home mom friends were available, but even with a few of us, it would have been challenging to haul furniture. On top of that, there would have been a ridiculous amount of kids running around, which doesn’t help. Plus, I needed truck beds, not minivans (as magical as we all know those are).
When you’re moving, what you really need are boxes. Lots of boxes. Boxes cost money; they are the last thing I wanted to invest in after purchasing a new home. Sure, it’s not a huge amount of money, but I thought of it as a nuisance of an expense. And so “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Boxes” was born. I know–it sounds totally cheesy. I never imagined how much this term I was (jokingly) trying to coin, would end up teaching me about community in motherhood.
Did I just connect moving boxes to motherhood? Yep. Am I trying to compare pants that magically connect a group of girls, to cardboard boxes for every mom in moving need? Yep.
Two friends of mine moved a few weeks before we did. Each of them graciously gave me all-access to any or all of their moving boxes after they had unpacked. Free boxes of all sizes, and my pick(s) of the litter? What a huge help! I never thought I would be so excited about some cardboard. At face value it didn’t seem like a big deal, but I saw it as a metaphorical lifesaver, pulling me out from drowning in the sea of moving stress.
Free cardboard boxes are insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but the offer of them in my time of need, made all the difference. It got me thinking that no matter how grand or small a gesture may be, it’s the effort to help that goes a long way. And isn’t that just what moms do so well? “Help” is practically our middle name. From the moment we wake to the cries of our baby needing a diaper change, to the moment we tuck in our toddler after another glass of water to quench bedtime thirst–we are the helpers of our households. We help tie shoes, comb hair, pack lunches, and kiss boo-boos. But moms are also there to help one another. We encourage in the face of overwhelm, rejoice over babies sleeping through the night, bring a warm meal on sick days, and offer to babysit when one of us needs to run errands or reset with alone time. And sometimes, we hand down cardboard boxes to a momma who’s moving. In big ways and small, there’s community within motherhood. It doesn’t matter what stage of motherhood you’re in, how put together you are, or if you’re a hot mess, we always offer support to one of our own.
Since I unpacked our belongings, the boxes have been dispersed between three other mom friends who recently moved. I’m already hearing that the boxes are making their way to be with another momma, soon. “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Boxes” is on the move. Pun intended. Unlike the magical pair of jeans from Ann Brashares’ novel, these boxes aren’t necessarily a one-size-fits-all, but they are a similar symbol of sharing a bond between women. It is the bond of community in motherhood, moms helping moms, and meeting each other’s needs where you are–no matter how small or silly it may seem.
